


A camera flash

by S_Horne



Series: Stony September AUs [20]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Hint of Angst, M/M, Miscommunication, Paparazzi, Protective Steve Rogers, Steve is done, actor Tony Stark, lots of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-07-14 20:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16047554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/S_Horne/pseuds/S_Horne
Summary: “Nobody wants this. Seriously. Nobody could ever want this. I certainly don’t want this. I didn’t ask to be famous so leave me the hell alone! God, I wish this would all just go away. Nothing is worth it,” Steve said and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. He stared around again imploringly, begging people to understand what he was saying and how much he believed every word. “No amount of money or fame, no big house or posh car could ever make me okay with having you vultures following me around for dirt on me. Nothing.”Steve didn’t think he had ever been so angry in his life, rage literally radiating from his body as he shoved his way through the throng of stunned reporters. He was shaking with it, the anger coming back with vengeance and coursing through his veins whenever memories of run-ins with the paparazzi flooded his mind./There's another camera in his face and Steve just snaps. When Tony sees the outburst, he jumps to the wrong conclusion.





	A camera flash

**Author's Note:**

> 20\. Famous

“I hate it!”

Steve’s sudden outburst shocked everyone around him and made the crowd rear back a little. Only the people, though; the cameras just leant in closer.

“I hate  _all_ of this. I never asked to be famous. I never asked to have cameras and reporters following my every move and writing down every time I take a breath. Who would actually want this? Seriously, tell me. Would you?”

Steve rounded on the closet reporter and glared at her, keeping his eyes on hers despite the flashing of lightbulbs an inch away from his cheek. “Would you want this? Because I really, really doubt that your answer is going to be ‘yes’. Believe me, it wouldn’t be yes.”

Steve cursed angrily as he turned to someone else, a noticeable sigh of relief coming from the woman that he released. “Did you know that a reporter actually followed my brother yesterday to ask him questions about his divorce? He doesn’t even live in the  _country!”_ Steve’s voice took on a tone of utter disbelief as he spat out his words.“Someone actually flew out of this country just to ask my brother about his  _divorce._ Who does that?

“Divorces aren’t  _fun,”_ he continued, poison dripping from every syllable, “no one gets to enjoy it. He clearly doesn’t want to talk about it and he definitely doesn’t want a fucking camera shoved down his throat!

“And who even cares away?” Steve was yelling now, his hands curled into fists as his eyes flashed dangerously, darting from one shell-shocked journalist to another. “Who is actually going to get in from a long, difficult day at work and relax by reading a trash magazine about the divorce of someone  _they don’t even know._ Who the hell gives a single  _shit_ about where I bought my breakfast or what I wore to the gym?

“Nobody wants this. Seriously. Nobody could  _ever_ want this. I certainly don’t want this. I didn’t ask to be famous so leave me the hell alone! God, I wish this would all just go away. Nothing is worth it,” Steve said and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. He stared around again imploringly, begging people to understand what he was saying and how much he believed every word. “No amount of money or fame, no big house or posh car could ever make me okay with having you vultures following me around for dirt on me.  _Nothing._ ”

Steve didn’t think he had ever been so angry in his life, rage literally radiating from his body as he shoved his way through the throng of stunned reporters. He was shaking with it, the anger coming back with vengeance and coursing through his veins whenever memories of Bucky’s voice floated into his head.

_“They’re following me, Stevie. With their cameras and their questions, everywhere I turn. I just want it all over. I can’t leave the house without a flash in my eye or a microphone shoved under my nose. They’re asking me… I don’t know what they’re asking me, Steve. Make it stop, please. Make it_ stop _.”_

The anger pushed him forward and Steve changed his route, heading for his gym instead of his apartment. Once there, he marched straight to the punching bags, completely uncaring of the suit trousers he was wearing and his new, insanely shiny shoes. The rage was hot inside of him, burning his chest and stinging his eyes. God, those people were vultures who got off on other people’s pain, on spreading lies, and dragging people through the mud.

Every time Steve remembered another incident, he threw another punch and with every punch, a new memory flooded his mind. A reminder of the time that he had wanted a coffee from the café down the block and was made to relive his mother’s death, or the time he was accused of having an affair – with  _Bucky,_ no less – or that time that he was literally pushed to the ground when a group had gotten too enthusiastic in their desperation to question him first.

God, he hated it. He hated, hated,  _hated_ it.

He snapped out of his haze when the punching bag hit the ground and sharp pains began to shoot up and down his arm.

Great. Just great.

/

The walk home was a little slower, but Steve was still fuming. He could feel the rage bubbling away under his skin, but he was trying to rein it in. At least there was seemingly no paparazzo around; maybe they’d finally gotten the message. It was still a horrible journey with Steve constantly looking over his shoulder as though a camera would just jump out at him.

When he finally pushed open his front door, Steve breathed a sigh of relief. No one was going to get him in here. Here it was just him and –

“Tony?”

There wasn’t an answer and when Steve entered the kitchen, Tony was standing by the window with his back to Steve as he looked out at the skyline.

“You alright?” he asked when Tony made no sign of having heard Steve enter. When there was still no answer, Steve threw his coat over the back of a dining chair and flicked on the light. At that, Tony flinched slightly, but still didn’t turn around.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” Steve crossed the kitchen in a matter of seconds, but Tony twisted out of his reach when Steve stretched out his arms. “Seriously, what’s going on? You’re really worrying me, sweetheart.”

Well. That was definitely the wrong thing to say judging by the full body wince that Tony gave and the almost-sob-like noise that passed his lips.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened? Tony, what’s  _happened_?”

Tony scoffed, but it came out broken, full of hurt instead of derision.

“Talk to me.”

At Steve’s plea, Tony finally spoke, his voice low and scratchy as though there was something caught in his throat. “If you didn’t want to be with me anymore, you could have just  _told_  me.”

Steve’s head span. What the hell? Him not wanting to be with Tony? That was completely ridiculous. Ludicrous, in fact, and just as he opened his mouth to say as much, Tony spoke again.

“Did I do something that horrible to you to make you not talk to me? Make you want to break up with me in public? I’m not that bad, am I?”

Steve’s feet surged him forward and he reached out for Tony as he desperately tried to talk. “What? No – Tony,  _no._ ”

“’M sorry,” Tony said as he wrapped his arms around himself. The way he stood, head bent and shoulders turned slightly, it looked as though he was trying to hold himself together. “I’m sorry I made you so angry.”

“Tony, no.” Steve seemed to be stuck on those words, his mind racing as he tried to think about why Tony was acting like this. They had been fine that morning, spending a few extra hours in bed with breakfast and a movie before Steve had left for his meeting. Things were normal, achingly sweet and domestic like Steve had always wanted. There was no hint that Steve didn’t want to be with Tony, no hint of those sorts of thoughts flying through Tony’s head. So what the hell had happened? “Tony, I’m not angry. I don’t want to not be with you. Of course I want to be with you. I’m  _marrying_ you, sweetheart. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“I saw it, Steve. Did you not think I would?”

“See what?”

“The video. For God’s sake, Steve. Did you really think you could go on a major rant to a massive group of paparazzi and it wouldn’t make the news? You’re engaged to one of the highest paid actors of the year; you’re all those people want. Your every move captured on camera.” Tony swallowed and Steve noticed how his fingers dug into his arms. “They were just waiting for this to happen. They were waiting for the break up to come.”

“Oh, God.” Steve stumbled forward and grabbed Tony, his hand finally closing around Tony’s arm. “Tony, I’m so sorry. No, sorry – oh, I’m, no… I’m so sorry, sorry, Tony – I didn’t mean, I swear; I didn’t… It wasn’t you, it wasn’t about  _you._ ”

Tony lifted his gaze and hesitantly met Steve’s, eyes searching for something that Steve was desperate to give, whatever the hell it was. “But you said…”

“I know. I know what I said, and I am so sorry. I didn’t realise you would… It wasn’t about you. You have to believe me.”

“The things you said,” Tony sighed and tried to pull his arm from Steve’s grasp. “Steve, you said you hated it.”

“I do.” Tony flinched violently and Steve stepped even closer, his fingers tilting Tony’s chin up to meet his eyes again. “I hate the fame and the cameras and the constant examination, but I don’t hate you. I could  _never_  hate you. My anger would never be aimed at you, would never be your fault in a hundred years. I love you, sweetheart. You’re it for me.”

Tony relaxed ever so slightly, but his expression was still guarded. “What was it? Why today?”

Steve sighed deeply and his shoulders slumped, fingers stroking absentmindedly over Tony’s arms, drawing strength from the action. “Bucky rang me,” he started to explain, a flame of anger reigniting in his stomach. “They’d been following him again, asking him about the divorce. He sounded so out of it, so broken. He didn’t know what to do, how to make them stop. It just broke me. When I saw that stupid camera in my face, I couldn’t stop thinking about Bucky’s fucking voice and I just snapped.”

Tony tensed in Steve’s arms again and tried to step back, body wriggling in an attempt to make Steve let him go. Steve’s grip wasn’t tight in any way, and it stayed strong throughout Tony’s attempts. Now that he had Tony within his touch, he wasn’t going to let him go. Never again would he let him go.

“Where – Tony, what? What’s wrong now?”

“Bucky hates me.”

“Bucky doesn’t hate you,” Steve answered immediately. He knew how to handle Tony and it was always best to go straight to the truth, not to offer empty platitudes. “Bucky could  _never_ hate you.”

Tony scoffed and Steve stroked the back of his hand over Tony’s cheek. “Believe me, sweetheart, my brother could never hate someone that I love as fiercely as I do you.”

“But the pap–”

“Oh yeah, he’s mad as hell.”

“See–”

“But not at you,” Steve interrupted, a smile finally worming onto his face. “I promise you, sweetheart. There is no way on earth Bucky is mad at you. He’s mad on your behalf though, trust me on that. Slightly in awe, too, that you do this every day and haven’t broken down yet. But he’s mad at the people following him and the ones shoving cameras in his face. He isn’t mad at you because you’re not the one doing that.”

“It’s because of me though, isn’t it?”

“It is not your fault.” Steve’s voice was hard, forceful and so confident. Steve believed in every word leaving his mouth. “It is  _not_ on you, Tony, none of it. You didn’t set them on Buck, or give them his address. You’re blameless in this.”

Tony felt silent for a long moment, eyes slipping closed as Steve’s calloused thumb continued to stroke over his cheek and his other hand slid down to his waist.

“You didn’t ask for this.”

“No, I definitely did not.” Steve should have known their argument wasn’t finished. Tony always had one more point left, even when his voice was hoarse and the sun was setting. Steve knew how to counter them though; with brutal honesty and the sheer love he felt. “I didn’t ask for you either, but I still got you.”

Tony huffed a weak laugh at that and Steve smiled. They had been childhood sweethearts, in as much as 15 year olds can be. They’d gone their separate ways to college and had lost contact with Steve going into the art world and Tony into Hollywood. Their second meeting had come out of the blue, but it was amazing. It had been a complete surprise to crash into Tony on the street, their respective papers and coffees going everywhere like something out of a slapstick movie. In a completely cliché way, their fingers had brushed and their eyes had locked.

Steve would take a run-in with the paparazzi every day of every fucking week if it meant that he got to come home to a sleepy Tony curled up under a blanket on the couch, or to a singing Tony dancing around the kitchen in fluffy socks and not a lot else, or even to a yelling Tony so angry that he was flushed in the cheeks and near tears. As long as he got  _Tony,_ Steve could make it through anything.  

"You're worth it, Tony. You're worth it all and more."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Is it wrong to say I like this one? Idk. Thank you all again, so much. 
> 
> [I have a tumblr](s-horne.tumblr.com)


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